


A Robot Baby

by Kaiyoz



Series: ...And James Makes Three [3]
Category: Marvel, Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Crying, Gen, M/M, Mother's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 14:06:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiyoz/pseuds/Kaiyoz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James' Mother's Day Experience</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Robot Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Longest Author’s Note: I wrote this on Mother’s Day weekend but felt it was in poor taste to post it. I think the current system by some negates a lot of women that either couldn’t be mothers, are biological mothers (but gave their kids up), didn’t want to mothers, or are not yet mothers but are aunts, nannies, teachers, cousins, or even men that have mother-like rolls. I think it leaves the women that have mother-like positions but are not acknowledged out. Yes, I have a lot of respect for mothers (I adore my mother, step-mother, aunts, grandmothers, and nanny). No, I am not a human mother but yes I have been called “mommy” (and even daddy) on many occasions and do get Mother’s Day cards. To start: This is not an “I hate Mother’s Day” fic; this is more of a let’s open up the definition of “mother” fic. 
> 
> Again, I love moms but want Mother’s Day to be widened to acknowledge more people in mothering positions.

James’ hand tightened around Uncle Coulson’s as the elevator stopped and dinged on the floor for the day care. Junior agents that had crowded into the elevator earlier dove to the side when his uncle cleared his throat to move them along. As he stumbled after Uncle Coulson he waved at the nervously tittering agents. Uncle Clint was right, junior agents were weird. 

Uncle Coulson knelt down as they passed through the security checkpoint and it’s guards. He idly straightened James’ backpack, it was huge, nearly dragging on the ground but it had all the Avengers on it, so it was a must-have for the Stark-Rogers boy. 

Coulson patted his backpack. “You have your lunch and snack?”

“Yes,” James nodded his head once hard. He saw Big Mike out of the corner of his eye and waved. 

“What did your dads pack before they left?” Uncle Coulson asked. His daddies were gone on a mission to Canada they had left after putting him to bed and would be back before dinner. 

“Uncle Clint packed it! It’s sour gummy worms, cucumbers, cheerios, go-gurt, and a half a hoagie. He said I couldn’t have an iced coffee but he gave me a Sunny-D, he said it’s almost as bad for me.”

The older man sighed. “Your Uncle Clint and I will be having a talk. If you need anything you know my extension. I’ll be back to pick you up at four, don’t cause trouble and your work better be done AND checked by Miss Ana.” 

“’Kay!” He hugged and kissed Uncle Coulson before darting after Big Mike. 

James knew he was an odd three year old. He looked at his age mates and wondered at them some days. Why didn’t they talk like he did? Why didn’t they understand what he was saying? He was starting to get that maybe he was different. He had met kids that understood him but they were just so much older. 

Big Mike wasn’t like that. He had just turned five last week; his mom had brought cupcakes and juice for the class. Big Mike didn’t talk a lot but he listened a lot. He didn’t give James funny looks when it was reading time and James read Harry Potter, he usually asked him to read it to him.

Big Mike could also lift James up and put him on top of the counter. He was Big Mike after all. He wore an adult small shirt. He liked to play cars with James and they would run around the play yard together, filling up the gas tanks before driving them around. Big Mike was his best friend and most days his only friend. 

James got excited when they sat down at the carpet and James saw construction paper and glue. It was a project. James loved projects. 

“Sunday is Mother’s Day, boys and girls and on Friday we will be having a Mother’s Day tea, you can bring in your mommies and have tea with them. Do you know what Mother’s Day is?” she began. There was a smattering of answers that only confused James. They had a whole day about mothers? 

He stuck up his hand. “Is there a dads day?” he asked when he was called on.

She smiled and nodded, “Yes, in June. We are going to read a book about mothers though right now, now our volunteers are going to call you over and ask you some questions so we can get started on our projects.”

When she had finished the first book about mothers, James felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He didn’t have a mother and the father wasn’t even in the book. He waited for the next one but again, the little girl had a mommy and even the dog had a mommy to give presents and flowers too. He started to feel sad and manfully looked at his fingers, trying to tune out the story. He didn’t have a mom, mama, mommy, or mother. He didn’t even have a grandma. 

He thought about the women in his life. Aunty Tasha was a woman but she was “one of the boys” to him. She did not cook. She didn’t get flowers. She only wore pretty dresses on missions. She liked shoes though, but that was a stereotype and he wasn’t allowed to stereotype. Aunty Pepper liked flowers and she wore lots of pretty dresses. She wasn’t around much though. She patted him on the head a lot and sent him off to find his dad. He didn’t really know Aunt Jane all that well, if she and Uncle Thor were in the same universe at the same time they were all gooey over each other. Aunt Jane was not around without Uncle Thor. 

That was it. Those were the women. Maria Hill sometimes smiled at him. The younger agents would coo at him occasionally. 

“James?” one of the aides called. He trotted over and sat in the seat she gestured too. 

He looked at the sheet she was primed to fill out. “We’re going to talk about your mom,” she stared. “Do you know how old she is or what her real name is?”

James shook his head, reading the questions over. “Do you know what her favorite food is?”

He shook his head again. “Does she cook something that you like?”

He frowned and shook his head again. “I don’t have a mom,” he whispered. 

“You don’t have a mom?” The aide looked over at the teacher. “Where is James’ mom?” she questioned. The teacher shook her head quickly. 

“James what about a woman who sometimes acts like your mom?” 

He shook his head again. What did “no mom” mean to these people?

“You don’t have a mommy?” one of the kids asked. 

“How did you get born-ed?” another wondered.

He shrugged. “I don’t know.” Why didn’t he know? He knew babies grew in mommies but he had never gone past that point of thinking. Did he have a mommy that he didn’t know? Was he born differently?

“Everyone has a mommy!” Big Mike stated. “You can’t have a baby without a mommy. Dog mommies have puppies. Bear mommies have cubs. Regular mommies have regular babies. Sometimes they die though.”

“My mommy is not dead!” he argued. 

A little boy in front pointed at him. “Are you a robot baby then? Like in Pinocchio?”

The whole class started to laugh at him and he could feel his face flush. He was not a robot baby. 

“That’s a puppet!” he corrected, infuriated. He sat down in his chair at the back of the class and pulled out his textbook. 

The kids were brought back under control and the teacher gave them a lecture about being nice and to not laugh at their classmates. He was happy to hear her explain that families were all different but it still didn’t explain his lost mommy.

He worked through multiplying three digits by two digits with half a mind. The other half wondered about his mommy. Was he a robot boy? It had some backing. His daddy had made Dummy, You, and Butterfingers. They were all fairly smart. Then there was Jarvis. Jarvis was smarter than him but didn’t have a body. That would explain why James himself was so smart. 

Robots were hard, he poked himself, he was soft and squishy. He bled when he scraped his knee. He picked at a scab on his finger while he thought. Maybe he was a robot. But his daddy and poppa would’ve said something. 

He wiped a tear off his cheek and bit his lip. His daddy and poppa would have said something. They would. 

With his math work finished the class went for the morning break. They made their way to the playground in the courtyard in the middle of the SHIELD building and James grabbed his lunch bag and went to sit with Big Mike. 

He put his lunch bag down but Big Mike scooted away. He sat down and scooted closer to Big Mike. 

His mouth hadn’t even opened before Big Mike shoved him off the bench. “Go away, robot baby.” 

James hit through ground. He didn’t like it but he felt his face heat and tears fall before he could stop it. His elbow bled, his lunch was smashed, and his feelings were hurt. 

“’M not a robot baby,” he sobbed as Miss Ana picked him up. “’M not.”

She said something, rubbing his back and trying to calm him but he had lost all reasonableness. He screamed bloody murder, harshly sobbing. 

“I want my daddies!” he sobbed when Miss Ana tried to calm him. He screamed again.

:::::::::::::::::::::::

Coulson flipped through the pages of his latest report, finishing off the status report of the past week. SHIELD was in fine form currently, only Captain America, Iron Man, and Thor were deployed in a potentially messy situation. There were a few agents still in deep-cover but no one in a worrying position. 

His assistant tapped timidly on the door as he started to explain how new policy implementation was working. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” she started, looking nervously at the room of twenty agents and the director. She held the phone to her chest. “The daycare is requesting your presence. James Stark-Rogers is, to quote them, “having a meltdown and going critical” on the playground.” 

He set down his folder, hesitating. “Put them on the phone, please.”

She held out the phone and even from three feet away he could hear the screaming of one James Stark-Rogers. The cries of “I want my daddies” were clearly audible. 

“Go get him, Coulson.” Fury ordered. “I’ll finish with the children.” He gestured to the other agents and his deputy director. 

He nodded before turning and setting off at a fast and steady pace towards the elevator, his assistant on his heels. 

“Get a message to Agent Barton to find me.”

She stepped off the elevator at the level for the range. She was a great assistant, she had learned Barton’s schedule as well as his own and only asked questions when she didn’t know how the answer or was unable to find it. He didn’t need to tell her that Barton was on the range and that Barton would know where to find him. 

He stepped off on to the second floor, where the play yard and courtyard was hemmed in. He could hear James’ screaming once the air locks released, his sunglasses falling into place. 

James was in a ballet split on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. His lunch box was flung on the ground and his breath coming in harsh pants. Another little boy was crying, bent over his table. 

“James, stop,” Coulson ordered. James’ screams hit a new volume of loud in response. 

He picked up the little boy and curled him into his arms. He pressed the boy’s face into his neck, ignoring the wet, stickiness sliding onto his clothes. 

“What the hell happened?” he asked over the wailing boy. 

An agent stepped forward. “Stark-Rogers went to sit next to that rather large young man. The other boy shoved him off the bench. He said something about being a “robot baby” and then asked for his fathers. Then the young man, Mikhail, began to cry.”

James had buried his face in Phil’s neck, his screams quieting to cries. 

“Anything else? What was that about a robot baby?” 

Miss Ana stepped in then. “We were making Mother’s Day projects and I didn’t realize the mother part of the project might be an issue. One of the kids wondered if he was a robot baby when he said he had no mom. It dissolved from there. I thought I had nipped it in the butt.”

Phil sighed, swaying side to side unconsciously. “Hand me his lunch and I’ll take him for a little while, until he calms down.”

He went back inside, agents diving back into their cubicles. They were curious about the screaming Stark child but not stupid enough to get in the way of the Legendary Agent Coulson. 

In his office, he locked the door and stood awkwardly in the office with James still in his arms. “What’s wrong, J?” he asked. The little boy mumbled something unintelligible. “Tell me what’s wrong, James.” 

The little boy mumbled something but when Coulson still didn’t understand he started to sob again. 

In a perfectly timed moved, Clint dropped through the vent and frowned when he saw James. 

“Give him to me,” Clint asked, taking James and sitting down with James in his lap. Coulson took a seat beside his partner. 

“Shh. Shh. Shh,” Clint soothed. In the years since James’ birth he had grown a lot more comfortable with children, once he had realized that James wouldn’t self-destruct, cry every time he was picked up, and he certainly wouldn’t break the boy. He kissed James’ cheek, rubbing his back. 

“James, are you hurt?” Clint began. The little boy squeaked something out and wiggled a bit, still crying. 

“Okay,” Clint answered. “I need you to take a breath. Can you do that? Deep breath in and let it out…” he inhaled and exhaled, while James shakily tried to follow him. 

He asked for more deep breaths from the worked up boy. Until James breathing was slower, even if it was still shaky. He didn’t pry anything out of James, letting him calm down. 

“M’ head hurts,” the boy huffed out, his voice hoarse. 

Clint nodded. “That happens when you’ve been crying. I think Uncle Phil has a baby juice box for you, why don’t you drink that down.”

When the boy’s breathing was finally calm. Clint took him to the bathroom to wipe his face down. He accepted a bit of his yogurt and some cheerios before going quiet. 

He fell asleep in Clint’s arms, his head pillowed on one thick bicep. 

“What happened?” Clint asked, once he was sure James was asleep. 

Phil explained what he knew and they waited for James to fill in the blanks. 

:::::::::::::::::::::::

James woke up with warm and hard under him with warm and soft over him. It felt like his poppa’s chest at first but when he realized how easily his arms reached around the man’s chest he knew it was Uncle Clint. 

They were both laid across the couch in Uncle Phil’s office, he could hear Uncle Clint’s heart beat through his shirt and listened to it for a long while. He had his own heartbeat; he was not a robot baby. 

“You feeling better J-man?” Clint asked.

He nodded into Clint’s chest. He was not a robot baby… but he should probably double check. 

“Do you know where my mother is?” he asked, unwilling to look up from Uncle Clint’s chest. 

His uncles were quiet, probably looking at each other. “No, I don’t,” Uncle Phil finally said. “Why?”

“Is she real?” he asked. 

They both said she was. 

“Why haven’t I met her?”

Uncle Phil answered again. “Because… you know this is a question to ask your dads.”

James felt his stomach turn over. That meant the answer was awkward. That was the same answer he had gotten for when he had asked why parents slept in the same bed. 

“Am I a robot baby?” he finally asked, dreading the answer.

He felt their shock in the air, his uncle’s chest shifting beneath his face. “What? What does that even mean?” Uncle Clint asked. 

“Did daddy make me from robot parts? Like Dummy and Jarvis? I don’t have a mommy and regular babies come from mommies.”

Uncle Clint recovered first. “You are not a robot baby,” he insisted. “You… are a regular baby.”

“What about Pinocchio?”

Uncle Phil answered this time. “I met your mother,” he began. “She’s a “regular” human woman, just like Aunt Pepper and Aunt Natasha. Your daddy and poppa love you very much.”

James absorbed that for a few minutes. He was a regular baby. 

“What about poppa? He’s not a regular human. And I have his eyes. Ever’body says so. Uncle Bruce takes my blood and he says I have Poppa in me.”

The chest under him shifted and he was suddenly vertical, looking into uncle’s blue grey eyes. “You are a regular human baby,” Uncle Clint told him. “And even if you were a robot baby, but you’re not, we would love you anyway. You are just extra special and your daddies can explain your mother to you later.”

He looked at the couch, his mind whirling but Uncle Phil interrupted his thoughts.

“Do you love Uncle Thor?” he asked. 

He nodded. Of course, who wouldn’t love a guy that could throw him two stories into the air? And could fly. And didn’t realize that pop-tarts and Cheetos were not a good dinner when he was babysitting. 

“He’s not a human baby,” Uncle Phil continued. “There’s a lot in this world that’s different and you’re going to see a lot of it.”

“When your daddies get home they are going to explain all of this to you,” Clint started. 

:::::::::::::::::::::::

James stayed up late waiting for his daddies to come home. He stared hard at the large white star on his chest, the bottoms of his spangle-y pants hung around his bare ankles. He loved to wear his Avenger’s pajamas and had every pair that was on the market. 

Eventually, Jarvis alerted him that his dad was “on approach” and he sprinted for the balcony doors. His Daddy and Poppa were just touching down, being pulled apart as he launched himself at his Poppa. The man easily threw his shield over onto his back and catching him simultaneously. Daddy’s armor had freed him a moment later and he locked his legs around Poppa’s waist but leaned over to hug his daddy, pulling them together. 

His parents were oddly silent, hugging him and kissing him. Uncle Coulson must’ve told them. 

“Uncle Coulson spilled the peas, didn’t he?” 

“Yes,” his Poppa said. “We need to talk. Daddy and I are going to change and then we are going to have a talk.”

He was carried to his parents’ bedroom and dropped on their bed while they changed. He played with a few holograms; he and daddy were designing a play scape for the terrace garden, one rated for him and Uncle Clint. He patiently waited for the shower to shut off and his daddies to stumble back into the room. 

He waited until they pulled on their sleep pants before climbing onto his daddy’s lap and facing Poppa. He played with the light of the arc reactor, settling his ear against it to hear it’s familiar hum and the low throb of his dad’s heart. 

“So you wanted to know about your mother?” Daddy began. “We were kind of waiting until you were older to talk to you but I guess this works too.”

James was silent waiting for information. “So you know babies grow in women’s stomachs. Daddies have to be with a mommy to make a baby.”

“You do have a mother, James,” Poppa confirmed for him. “She… is a very nice lady.”

Daddy continued, “Your mother and I were friends and we made you. She wasn’t… ready to be a mother. Your Poppa and I fell in love with each other and your mother decided to give you to me and because your Poppa loved you and me he decided to become your other daddy.” 

James frowned. “She didn’t want me?”

His parents shook their heads at the same time. “I knew we should’ve gotten some advice,” his daddy muttered, hugging him tight. 

Poppa sat forward and took his hands. “Your mother wasn’t ready to be a mother. It’s a lot of work so she decided that she was going to give you to us, all the way. Normally a mom and dad take care of a baby but she just gave you to your daddy. She was a good woman.”

“How did I get part of Poppa in me?”

“Well, that’s a good story,” Daddy began. “You got very sick one day when you were a tiny baby. Very, very sick. Uncle Bruce and another good doctor found out that if we gave you some of Poppa’s blood it would make you well again. So we transfused you with Poppa’s blood, that means we put Poppa’s blood in you, and you got better. That’s why Poppa’s eyes match yours. It’s very special.”

James nodded, internalizing the information. “So she just couldn’t be a mommy… I can’t meet her?” 

Daddy sighed. “No, I’m afraid not, baby. Maybe one day but she’s a very busy lady.”

He felt tears well. “So who’s going to come to Mother’s Day Tea with me? The other kids think I’m a robot baby.” 

“I will come with you,” Poppa answered. “You don’t need to be a woman to be a mother.”

“What does a mom do?” Daddy questioned, throwing up a chart on the wall. 

James sighed, thinking about the books and TV shows he had seen with mommies in them. “Mommies cook good food. And fix you when you break. They put their hands on your head when you’re sick. They clean up your messes. They yell at daddies. They say funny things and take you grocery shopping.”

The list appeared as he spoke. “And they like flowers.”

“Okay,” Daddy said once the list was finished. “Can you find anything on there that we don’t do?”

James examined the list closely. “I think Poppa likes flowers. Daddy is not allowed to grocery shop… Poppa does all of that.”

“That settles it, Poppa is your mommy.”

James frowned up at his daddy’s laughing face; he was making fun of Poppa. “Poppa is a lot stronger than you though and he’s taller. Daddies are supposed to be the taller and stronger ones.”

Daddy huffed good-naturedly under his ear. “What did I tell you about stereotypes?”

Poppa laughed and put James in his lap. “We are your mother and father. That’s our job. We do know it’s important for you to have women in your life though. So… this Mother’s Day thing is up to you. You can choose to stay home that day, you can pick a woman and invite her, or you can invite your daddy or me.”

“Mother’s Day is really about celebrating the women in your life. Maybe they aren’t your mommy but they can be a woman you look up to,” Daddy explained. 

“Do you think Aunty Tasha would want to go?” he asked hesitantly. Aunty Tasha took him shopping a lot, she couldn’t cook but she took him to eat. She taught him Russian too.

Poppa shrugged. “Maybe, you can ask her if you want.”

:::::::::::::::::::::::

The next day he carefully pieced together his invitation to Aunty Tasha and placed it in his backpack when Happy came to pick him up.

He shuffled down to the gym where Aunty Tasha was working out, his invitation hidden behind his back. 

The door opened and he watched as Aunty Tasha wailed on a punching bag, shaking on its frames. She slowed down when she saw James, giving him a half smile. 

“Come to work out?” she questioned. 

He nodded; she was a good coach. She stretched out as he came closer.

“Why so quiet, James?” she asked, looking up.

He dropped into a sit next to her foot, touching her bare painted toes. She had taken him to get his feet pedicured before too. 

“You’re not my mommy,” he began, handing his teapot shaped invitation over. “But we are having a Mother’s Day tea at day care and I wanted to know if you want to come. But you don’t have to if you want to do it. The mommies are wearing pretty dresses and I gotta “suit up.” But I think it’s stupid. Nobody likes tea, Uncle Phil says it’s pretentious…”

She looked through the invitation while he was babbling. Her sudden smile startled him. 

She gracefully fell into a crouch in front of him, her green eyes locking with his. 

“I would be honored,” she said. 

:::::::::::::::::::::::

The next day, he smiled as Aunty Tasha picked him up in his room. Daddy was there to watch while Poppa took pictures. 

She was “smoking” according to Daddy and looked “wonderful” according to Poppa. Her dress was white with flowers on the bottom of it, just below her knees, and her red-hair was in a bun. She looked like a star from the old movies Poppa liked. 

He gave her his corsage; his Poppa had said you had to give women flowers when you went out with them. The red rose looked great on her wrist. She still picked him up and carried him to the car despite her three-inch heels and white dress. His daddy had insisted he wear his own white suit and red shirt to match her. 

They looked good. The receptionist at SHIELD made eyes behind Auntie Tasha’s back and the agents said he looked adorable. They were awesome.

He strutted into daycare with his tray of cake pops with Aunty Tasha right behind him. 

Big Mike met him at the door. “I didn’t mean for you to fall,” he began. 

James nodded back; three-year-old emotions were easily soothed. “I’m not a robot baby.”

Big Mike nodded and pointed over at his mommy. “I know. Mommy said everyone has a mommy but they don’t have to live with you or even know where you are. You got extra daddies instead.”

James nodded back. “You want a cake pop?”

A few moments later he went to find Aunt Tasha, letting her take and settle the cake pops Uncle Bruce had made on the table with all the other snacks. He couldn’t help but notice the tittering women around the edges of the room watching Aunt Tasha. He had heard from junior agents that she was deadly and he knew she was. Compared to the other women in the room, she was a “knock-out” as Poppa would say. Uncle Clint called her a “hottie frittotty with a naughty body” even when she threatened him. She was graceful, like a ballerina and elegant like a queen. Some of the mommies were agents but Aunty Tasha was The Agent. 

She sat down in a tiny chair, her legs and hands perfectly arranged even though she was barely six inches off the ground. He sat in her lap, sipping tea and chowing down on cucumber sandwiches while she feasted on cake pops. They flipped cake pop sticks into an abandoned teacup until one of the mommies gave them a dirty look. Aunty Tasha’s look back must’ve been scarier because the woman stood and moved to a different table. 

He might not have a mommy but he had one kick-ass aunt.

**Author's Note:**

> Natasha's Dress: http://www.modcloth.com/shop/dresses/beyond-the-meadow-dress
> 
> I wrote this in one day and I have no beta. Please, forgive me. James’ personality is based off of my Kindergartners. I love those guys, they are quick to forgive others and easy to accept all.
> 
> Comment or Kudos if you liked. I'm working on more James stuff because I just love that little guy. :)


End file.
